


Dude, I'll Just Wear Sunglasses

by sevdrag (seventhe)



Series: tumblr mugged me in a back alley [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Brandy - Freeform, F/M, Gen, M/M, Oh My God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/sevdrag
Summary: Clint Barton is is the worst at being a vampire, Werewolf Bucky is so done with his shit, and Mistress Natasha knows everything.





	Dude, I'll Just Wear Sunglasses

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Dude, I'll Just Wear Sunglasses By sevdrag (seventhe)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060399) by [Llyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llyan/pseuds/Llyan)



Bucky’s phone tells him Natalia is calling, which is odd, because it’s daylight.

“Привет?”

“James,” Natalia says, and huh, she sounds wide awake and a little urgent, and more than a little amused. “Thank you for picking up.”

“Of course,” Bucky says. He would never ignore a Mistress of the City, even if he an Nat hadn’t been longtime friends.

“I need a day favor,” Natalia says. It’s not a formal request, then, just another step in the way he and Nat have worked before: he’ll do daylight things for her, and she’ll do full moon things for him, and over the years they’ve accumulated enough to know that they can - to a certain extent - trust each other.

“Luckily,” Bucky says, “I’m free today.” Stevie’s back in the hospital cause his bronchitis came back; Bucky’s just leaving the coffee shop across the street. “How can I help my Lady?”

Natalia makes a small sound Bucky’s fairly sure he isn’t supposed to hear. “There’s a blue Nissan sedan in the parking lot of Romeo’s Pizza on 132nd. There’s something very valuable to me in the trunk. I need you to drive the car to an address I’ll send you as soon as possible, and wait for someone to arrive.” She pauses. “Don’t open the trunk.”

“Right,” Bucky drawls, cause there’s a lot of vampire magics that are affected by sunlight, but it isn’t like Nat can’t call in other favors. “You know I’m likely to sniff it out, right?”

This sigh Bucky’s pretty sure is meant for him. “He asked me not to tell anyone,” Natalia says, “but he deserves to be laughed at. Clint was out too late last night and had to lock himself in the trunk to avoid the Burn.”

Bucky’s never met Natalia’s Clint, but he knows the name. He knows Nat and Clint have been together for a long time, that Clint’s Nat’s Second in the seethe, and that they can trace their line all the way back to Budapest — but he also knows enough that he’s of the (secret) opinion that Clint is, like, the worst ever at being an actual vampire. “How many times this year?”

“This makes the third,” Nat says, and it’s both exasperated and very, very fond.

“Alright,” Bucky says, because of course he’s going to go pull Nat’s idiot out of trouble. “I’m on my way. But you owe me.”

“I know,” says Natalia, in her formal Mistress voice. “Clinton himself can pay this debt for me.”

Great, Bucky thinks, just fan-fuckin-great.

_\------_

It’s almost lunchtime by the time Bucky gets to the car; he’ll have to have pizza, then, but he figures he may as well go inform Natalia’s dumbest vampire that help has arrived. The car’s a little beat up, duct tape across one of the taillights, and incredibly unremarkable. Bucky knocks on the trunk hood. “Hello?”

He hears rustling, a series of grunts and groans, and then a hoarse voice saying, “Yeah?”

“Hi,” Bucky says. “Natalia sent me.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” says the voice. “How many bagels did you get?”

Bucky blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse _you_ ,” the voice replies. “How many bagels did you bring me?”

Bucky’s so fucking confused he looks around to see whether there’s maybe another blue sedan in the parking lot that might have a _different_ idiot in its trunk. “Bagels?”

“Aw, Nat, no.” The voice has gone whiny. Bucky’s sensitive ears pick up shifting and what might be a slump. “I told her to tell whoever came to get me to bring bagels.”

“Vampires don’t eat?” Bucky says, and it comes out a question — not a question of whether it’s true, because Bucky knows it for a fact, but a question of _what the actual fuck is he dealing with here_.

“Vampires don’t _need_ to eat,” the voice corrects him, “other than, you know, but I really want a fucking bagel.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky mutters. There’s a moment of silence, strung out between him and the dumbfuck disembodied voice in the car.

“Do I know you? Do we know each other?”

Bucky shakes his head, even though he knows he can’t be seen. “I know of you, I guess. I’m James. Barnes.”

“Tasha’s werewolf James?” The voice sounds unexpectedly excited. “Oh my god, do I actually get to meet you in person? Fucking finally. Oh, I’m Clint.”

“I know,” Bucky says, weary but laughing. “And you only get to meet me if you don’t accidentally Burn yourself, so let’s get this car moving.”

“I’ve got a _blanket_ ,” Clint says, all affronted and insulted, as if a fucking blanket can save a vamp from the Burn? The hell is this guy’s problem? Bucky sighs, raps the trunk with his knuckles, and heads to the driver’s seat to hunt down the keys.

“Oh, and stop for bagels, would you? I’ve got cash.”

——-

Natalia’s directed him to a private parking garage: enclosed, well-shaded, poorly lit only by those terrible orange-yellow bulbs. It isn’t perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot safer than the pizza joint. Bucky’s heard stories of a number of vampires who’ve been Burned from this kind of shit - say the sedan gets rear-ended by someone’s shit parking, for example, and then _boom_ Clint goes up in smoke and flame. What an idiot.

Bucky did, however, stop to get bagels. After all the talk, he ended up craving a bagel sandwich himself, and if he’s gonna have to sit here until sundown he needs enough food to make it. The days are short with winter, so it’ll probably only be a couple hours until Clint’s safe and free to go.

Bucky’s leaning up against the trunk of the car casually. “So I actually got your dumb ass a bagel, but how are you going to get it?”

“Like this.” Bucky hears Clint shifting around, and then what sounds like a kicking sound - and then the duct tape over the taillight breaks to reveal the dim edges of a grey blanket. The blanket makes a grasping gesture like there’s a hand inside. “Gimme.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Bucky says, staring, because Clint’s _hand_ is out in the _daylight_ with just a blanket and what the fuck—

“Give me my fucking bagel, Barnes.”

Bucky hands it over, hastily, and when the blanket is pulled back from the hole Bucky does his frantic best to line up the duct tape and press it back over the opening. Even a _crack_ could hurt Clint. “I don’t believe you just risked your immortal ass life for a goddamn bagel.”

“Wow, I don’t either,” Clint says, insulted, “a fucking plain bagel? No cream cheese? No butter? The fuck did I ever do to you, Barnes?”

Bucky’s eyes are rolling so hard he can almost see his own brain. “Next time I’m getting you a garlic one,” he growls, and slumps back up against the hood. If he takes a second to make sure he’s positioning himself between the duct-taped taillight and the direction a loose ray of sun is most likely to come from, well, he’s just doing what Natalia asked.

“Everything bagels are so good,” Clint moans from the trunk. “Garlic. Worth it.”

\------

Eventually the fucking trunk vampire decides to take a nap. Bucky knows vamps do something kind of like sleep during the day, when the sun is high, but this guy is either a great faker or absolutely exhausted. Bucky’s hearing can pick up his low breathing, and the lack of any other sound means he’s motionless.

This guy. Man.

Bucky sits down in the driver’s seat and opens up _Love Nikki_ on his phone, which he plays mainly to be better at it than Steve, who genuinely enjoys it. He isn’t in the mood but he needs something to distract himself for a while, so he goes through the daily battles and clears the current event. Fucking Momo.

He can’t stop thinking about Stevie.

Thing is, Steve Rogers is really a primary candidate for the Bite. He’s chronically ill with things that being a were could fix, he’s a decent guy who won’t go nuts with it, and he already knows about the supernatural community. Every time Steve ends up in the hospital he just gives Bucky these looks, and, well, fuck Steve.

The other thing is, Bucky knows that if Steve wants the Bite, he’s gonna want it to be Bucky. And Bucky just. He can’t.

He _should_ , because if some other fucker comes in and Bites Steve, Bucky’s gonna tear his ass to shreds and make him wish he’d never been born. But he can’t - he doesn’t want to do that to Steve. It’s a lot of pain, for a long time, and it - being a werewolf really isn’t all sunshine and rainbows either.

And they’ve had this discussion over and over, and now Steve just gives him these looks from his hospital bed, and Bucky’s so fucking pissed.

He eats another bagel and contemplates what the fuck is even going on.

—-

Bucky wakes from a light doze to hear a banging noise coming from the trunk. It seems to be Morse code, so he listens for a bit, until he spells out _N-E-V-E-R-G-O-N-N-A-G-I-_ and snorts.

“Did you just attempt to Rickroll me?” He asks, once he’s approached the trunk.

“No,” Clint says, “I _successfully_ Rickrolled you. Sun’s down. Lemme out.”

Bucky glances around. There’s still a lot of light, but he knows vamps can always feel the position of the sun in their blood. Just like he can always tell the phase of the moon, when it’ll peek over the horizon and start to pull at him, whether it’s a quarter-waning or gibbous-waxing - vamps know the instant the sun rises and sets on them. Then again, Clint is like the worst vampire he’s ever met.

“Why don’t you give it an extra five minutes for safety,” Bucky says.

“Aww,” Clint replies, “you do care. But I’m really fucking sick of this trunk and I’d like to stretch my legs.”

Bucky purses his lips, but he’d probably be pretty cranky from being locked in a car all day, so he simply takes the keys and unlocks the hood, letting it pop.

“Ugh,” Clint’s voice says, deeper and raspier now that the trunk’s open, “Gimme a hand, man.”

Bucky lifts the trunk and reaches out, and —

Holy _shit_.

Natalia didn’t tell him that her trunk vampire was _devastatingly hot._

Bucky knows the vamp virus kind of molds their bodies to a point of peak physical condition. He also knows that the vamps play mind games, seductive and sly, and that they can put a whammy on you until you think they’re the sexiest thing in the world. He also knows Natalia’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, which means any vampire in her seethe would be equally attractive, but —

But _damn_.

Clint Barton is tall and built. He isn’t even dressed up - a vampire in a fuckin’ t-shirt and jeans that have _holes in them_ , no sense of self-preservation - but the shirt is pulled tight across broad shoulders and biceps, and the jeans are hanging low enough that when Clint stretches, Bucky’s wolf side kicks in and all he wants to do is lick at that narrow strip of skin.

And his face, Jesus. Clint’s grinning at him, blond hair a mess of spikes and dark green-blue eyes and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s no whammy here, he’s just fucked.

“Finally,” Clint says, extending a hand. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a while, man, I don’t know why Tasha kept you so secret.”

Bucky shakes his hand and wonders whether it’s too late to ask Nat to kill him.

“Anyway, thanks,” Clint says, rubbing at the back of his neck, adorably embarrassed. “Look, can I get you dinner? Least I can do for making you wait all day.”

“Is that how you settle a debt?” Bucky asks, genuinely curious, and Clint grins at him again, all stupidly handsome.

“Nah, not for that, just as - as a thank you.” He shrugs. “Tasha’s big on debts, she’ll figure something out, but I like to remember my manners occasionally.”

“You don’t eat,” Bucky points out, as if Clint might have forgotten. “It’s cool, I’ll find something.”

“I love burgers,” Clint says, and he grabs Bucky’s arm. “Come on.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started as three random pieces on Tumblr for fun, and turned into something that might want to have a bit of worldbuilding behind it. This will not be the only vampire!Clint I post, either, because I am terrible.


End file.
